From Mr Buell Wesley Frazier's new book-------------------
I walked just twenty yards before I realized there was no way I was going to find them (Mr Shelley & Mr Lovelady, A.F.).
As I paused to turn around to go back to the entrance of the Texas School Book Depository, a man walked up carrying a rifle.
He wore light-beige slacks with a white shirt and tie and light-brown shoes, and he had a brown-colored plaid tweed sports coat with a brown fedora. I think he was probably in his late thirties.
When he walked up and I saw him with the rifle, my heart jumped into my throat. I knew the president had been shot, and I was now face-to-face with someone not in police clothing carrying a weapon.
I was terrified.
He bored a hole right through me with his brown eyes, and I said, "Don't worry, I didn't see anything."
Without missing a beat, he opened the trunk of his car, and I saw what appeared to be a pump shotgun. He put the rifle he was carrying in the trunk and shut it.
He was calm and never said a word to me, but I'll never forget his face.
I turned around and headed back to the front steps of the Texas School Book Depository.
At the same time, I heard the car door open and close, the car start, and him pull out of the angled parking spot. I never looked back as I walked toward the entrance of the building and then to the corner of Houston and Elm, where a couple was standing.
I have thought about this for so many years. He was professional and calm, which was a stark comparison to the mayhem of every other person hollering and screaming and crying in Dealey Plaza at that time. He was walking, not running, away from the grassy knoll. He was in no hurry. If I didn't know better, it was like he appeared out of nowhere and had no idea of what had just occurred. He was in his own world.